


Vanquish

by orphan_account



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Abby Needs a Swift Kick in the Pants, Aftercare, Age Play, Bathing/Washing, Carol Needs a Hug, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Age Play, Therese Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:05:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6594172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Carol thinks, though Therese isn’t a child, perhaps, in a way, she’s still a little girl waiting for her comforter to arrive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanquish

**Author's Note:**

> In the immortal words of my beta, "How the tables have tabled." I swore I'd never write Carol ageplay. And here we are.
> 
> This is very, very light ageplay. Probably more Domme/sub than ageplay but I think the two work hand in hand, in regards to Carol and Therese. I hope you enjoy!

Therese says that the nightmares don’t mean anything, that she used to have them off and on as a child, and that she’s fine.

But for the last two weeks Therese has woken up in the middle of the night, every night, sweaty and panicked. They’re just images, she tells Carol, vague feelings of something being _not quite right_. It annoys Carol, when she’s lying in the bed with a trembling Therese next to her, that Therese can’t tell her what it _is_.

She can’t chase the monsters away if she doesn’t know what they are.

It’s odd, this desire to clear away all the shadows that surround Therese. It physically _hurts_ Carol to watch her face become pinched with exhaustion, for her eyes to become dull. Therese has always been salt and light for Carol, the savor her life had lost thanks to Harge. She’s that shining light that Carol craves while she’s at work at the furniture store; but because of her work and Therese’s schedule at the Times, lately it’s been _rare_ that she and Therese actually get to share a common space, except when they both collapse into bed together. Some nights Carol knows she and Therese are both too worn out to even want to make love, but they do so anyway because every touch and every sigh brings with it a connection that they’ve somehow missed out on.

And though she may fall asleep still wet and amazingly physically sated, Carol isn’t satisfied.

She suspects, for herself but even more for Therese, that it isn’t enough.

She’s helpless to stand by and witness how Therese, who had somehow become strong and independent during their separation, is now jittery and restless. She drinks too much coffee to keep herself up during the day, and that certainly doesn’t help her at night, Carol knows. But the one time she’s mentioned it Therese had snapped at her.

“I can’t fall asleep at my desk, Carol. Some of the guys already think I shouldn’t be there.”

She’s stopped making suggestions of giving up coffee, of perhaps a cup of hot tea before bed, of Therese perhaps going to someone to talk about why she is having difficulty sleeping.

“Yes,” Therese had scoffed at her. “Going to a doctor helped _you_ , didn’t it?”

And then she’d burst into tears, flung herself at Carol with “I’m sorry” over and over on her lips, and the momentary hurt Carol had felt at the words was replaced with her own kind of panic, because this was _not_ her Therese.

She’s known it would be difficult. She’d known that even before she’d asked Therese to move in with her. Every relationship has its issues; circumstances have rather magnified the ones that she and Therese have had to face.

One doesn’t come away from road trips like theirs completely unscathed, Carol has told herself.

But she suspects it isn’t that. She’s beaten herself up enough over leaving Therese to wake up alone in a hotel room with Abby; Therese has forgiven her, has _said_ she forgives Carol, and Carol knows it to be true. Despite the last couple of weeks, despite the biting comments and the frustration, despite the weariness in Therese’s eyes the _trust_ she has in Carol is still there, and Carol will never, for the rest of her life, feel as if she deserves it.

So it’s that trust that’s been placed in her that absolutely _pains_ Carol, because she can’t seem to make these nightmares stop and she can’t seem to figure out _why_ they’re happening in the first place. Therese trusts her, trusts Carol to be there for her, and every time Carol puts on her coat and steps outside onto Madison Avenue to leave Therese for eight hours, she feels as if she’s failed, miserably.

It comes to a head one Friday evening, at dinner. Carol is grateful for the weekends, because at least if Therese has a nightmare, she can sleep in the next morning. Not that Therese usually allows herself to; she’s always up bright and early to make breakfast and to start developing whatever prints she’s taken that week for fun. Carol is an early riser as well, but she’s asked Therese why she just can’t let herself rest?

“I have work to do,” Therese says, and that’s that.

Carol and Abby are waiting for Therese just after five, at a restaurant downtown. Abby’s sat across from Carol, stirring her martini with an olive-tipped toothpick, and looking at her best friend like she always does. Like she _knows_ something is going on. But for once, Carol isn’t looking for a chance to vent, or looking for advice. She wants to talk of mundane things, about the furniture store and about the redhead that Abby has been seeing for the half-year. Carol’s glad that she has a girl of her own now, if only for the fact that Abby doesn’t look at Therese anymore like someone who has invaded her space.

Therese slips into the booth, next to Carol, at five-thirty; she’s already so tired that she lists against her slightly, and Carol checks to see no one is watching before she lightly kisses Therese’s temple.

“I missed you, darling,” she says warmly, and counts her lucky stars that hearing that always brings the dimples to Therese’s cheeks.

“I missed you too. Hi, Abby.”

“How are you, kiddo?” Abby says.

“I’m fine, Grandmother.”

Carol rolls her eyes at their exchange; as silly as it is, she’s grateful that Abby and Therese have called a truce, at least, and are able to joke with one another. But that’s the extent of it, tonight; as Carol and Abby chat easily, Therese only sits there, nursing her water and looking as if she wishes she were anywhere else.

Abby tries to engage her and is met with one-word answers; Carol tries to engage her and is met with cursory shrugs and a mumble or two. That normally doesn’t fly with Carol; at this point in their relationship she’s no longer inclined to try to guess what Therese is thinking. But she notices Therese fall asleep at the table at least once; so Carol just bites her tongue and nudges her awake again, her heart clenching at the apologetic smile her angel gives her.

 _Where are your monsters_? she wants to ask. _Hand me my sword, I will vanquish them for you. For only you, forever_.

The conversation stalls over steaks and vegetables; Carol can sense Abby’s growing frustration and she only hopes that the storm that is Abby Gerhard can control herself until the night is over.

Her hopes are in vain though, because finally Abby snipes, “You know, Therese, if you’re going to be such a knot on a log at these shindigs maybe Carol ought to leave you at home.”

“Abby!” Carol exclaims in shock. “That’s not nice!”

“No,” Therese says evenly, rising to her feet. “Abby’s right, maybe you should just leave me at home.”

“Ah, damn it,” Abby says as Therese begins to put on her coat. “Therese, come on.”

“I’ll see you at the—“ Therese starts to say to Carol, but she interrupts her.

“No. You’ll wait for me outside, please.”

Therese hesitates, as if she’s wanting to refuse, but instead she only ducks her head and nods, disappearing out of the restaurant.

Carol turns back to Abby, who, for once, looks chastised. “You need to mind yourself,” Carol says, and Abby throws up her hands.

“I didn’t say anything to her that I haven’t said before!”

“I know, but…” Carol sighs wearily. “She’s been having nightmares, and it’s putting us both on edge. We’re exhausted. Therese from not sleeping, and me from worrying myself sick about her. She says she’s fine, that she’s had them when she was a child, but I simply do not know how to fix this.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Abby says sympathetically, and rests her hand on Carol’s, giving it a squeeze. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Carol.”

“Oh, I know you are, Abigail.” Carol stands up to put on her own coat and smiles sadly at her best friend.

“I’ll pick up the check since you both are bailing on me,” Abby says with a grin.

“I get everything on special anyway.”

Carol laughs and gives Abby a wink.

“She told you she used to have bad dreams as a kid?”

“Yes.”

Abby shakes her head. “I can’t imagine anything worse.”

“What do you mean?”

Abby meets Carol’s eyes. “Being a little girl in a boarding school, having nightmares and knowing no one is going to come and comfort you.”

Well, _that_ idea fills Carol with a revulsion she hasn’t felt… ever. It hastens her outside to Therese, who is standing leaning against a street lamp with her head down. She lifts it as she hears Carol’s heels approaching on the sidewalk, and Carol isn’t surprised to see the glimmer of tears on Therese’s cheeks.

“Carol, I’m—“

“No,” Carol says, reaching her hand out to hail a taxi. “There will be no apologies tonight, my dearest. They aren’t necessary. Let’s go home.”

They ride to Madison Avenue in silence. Carol is thinking. She’s reminded of a time when Rindy had had a nightmare. It had been the most terrifying experience of Carol’s life, waking up to the screams of her daughter. She and Harge had leapt from the bed and raced to three-year-old Rindy’s room, Harge armed with the small pistol that he kept under his pillow. But there hadn’t been anything hurting Rindy, only the monsters under her bed. Carol will remember that night forever, how she had held her shaking little girl in her arms and reassured her, over and over, that no one would ever hurt her. That no matter what, Daddy and Mommy would always, always be there to rescue her.

Rindy has never wanted for comfort, has never known what it is like to wake up and _not_ have someone there. She has never known two solid weeks of nightmares. Her protectors have always been vigilant.

Carol holds the door to their apartment open for Therese and ushers her inside before flipping on the light.

She turns to Therese, who is standing in the middle of their living room almost as if she’s still not quite used to this being her home, as well. Carol crosses the floor and takes Therese’s hands in hers.

“I think I shall put you to bed early this evening, my angel.”

“What?” Therese says, giving Carol a mystified look. “I want to develop some of the negatives I took last weekend at the park.”

“The negatives can wait, little one.” She reaches up and brushes Therese’s cheek with the back of her hand. “You look so tired.” Carol clucks her tongue sympathetically.

“I’m fi—“

“No, you’re not,” Carol says, a little more sharply than she’d intended. She wraps her arms around Therese and tugs the younger woman to her, pulling their bodies flush with each other.

“You’re not fine, you’re exhausted. My poor little girl. You need a hot bath and a good, long sleep.”

She pulls back slightly and looks into Therese’s eyes. Something is sparking within them, and it emboldens Carol enough to continue.

“Let me take care of you,” she soothes, running a hand through Therese’s hair. “It’s going to be all right, Therese.”

She shouldn’t have waited this long, Carol thinks to herself. Because right now Therese is looking at her and she seems so _relieved_ that finally, she doesn’t have to struggle at this alone. It makes Carol want to kick herself, because really, she should have been doing this all along. But she’ll make up for it, and when Therese bites her lower lip and nods, the trust in her eyes is enough for Carol to resolve that she will do this every night, if she has to.

“All right,” Carol says, with a definitive nod. “Now, did you get enough to eat at dinner? You shouldn’t eat right before you go to bed but if you’re still hungry I can make you some toast.”

“No, I got enough,” Therese says quietly. “I’m sorry I made Abby angry.”

“Abby is fine,” Carol says with a dismissive wave, taking Therese’s hand in hers and leading her down the hall into their bedroom, then into their spacious bathroom. “She shouldn’t have said what she did, and I told her so. You know she doesn’t mean to pick at you, dearest. And she’s said she’s sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

Carol reaches down and starts the water running, settling the plug into the tub and then stepping back. Therese is wearing a very fine dark red suit jacket and skirt, with a white blouse underneath. She always looks so smart, Carol thinks, but at that moment she looks more like a tired little girl playing dress-up, who desperately needs a nap.

“Which soap do you want?” Carol asks, as she casually begins to unbutton Therese’s jacket and pull it off of her. She’s undressed her girlfriend many times since their first night together in Waterloo, but this is different. Therese usually participates, during the other times, for one. But tonight she’s all awkward limbs and helplessness, letting Carol take off her clothes as if she’s forgotten how to do it herself. Carol thinks she likes it.

“Just the normal one,” Therese says, stepping out of her skirt when Carol kneels down in front of her to tug it off. “I like it ‘cause it just smells clean. Sort of soft.”

There are more soaps than either of them know what to do with, because the bathroom in their apartment had been one of its selling points for Carol; it’s big enough for the two of them – even in the tub, which they’ve taken advantage of twice. Carol can move easily enough, stripping Therese until the girl is naked in front of her. She tosses Therese’s clothes into the hamper, then turns off the water and helps her into the tub.

Therese relaxes against the porcelain, closing her eyes with a relaxed sigh, and Carol smiles slightly.

“Does that feel good, little one?”

“Mm-hm. It’s really nice.” Therese opens one eye. “Are you joining?”

“Oh, that’s a very tempting offer,” Carol says slyly. “But not tonight, Miss Belivet. Tonight is just for you. Now you stay here, I’m going to go lay out your pajamas.”

“But—“

“But?” Carol turns back, her hand still on the doorknob. “What is it?”

Therese says nothing, only looks down at the water.

“I cannot guess what you’re thinking, Therese, so if you want something, please use your words.”

“I was hoping you would wash me.”

Carol smiles broadly. Suddenly the idea of bathing Therese is the most wonderful she’s ever heard.

“Of course I will. You stay there and rest a bit; I’m going to go get out of this suit and I’ll be right back.”

“All right,” Therese agrees, settling back and closing her eyes again.

Back in the bedroom, Carol strips out of her own business clothes and pulls on her pajamas and robe. She brushes her hair out briefly, feeling a bit of her own edge slip away into a sort of calmness. She has a purpose now, she thinks; tonight _is_ all about Therese. Her job as Rindy’s mother is to drive any sort of darkness away that the little girl might encounter; perhaps, she thinks, her role as Therese’s girlfriend sometimes isn’t that dissimilar.

A quick trip to the dresser against the wall reveals the pair of pajamas that Carol had bought Therese for her birthday – a set that Therese had declared so marvelous and wonderful that she actually hasn’t worn them yet. Therese has been content to wear her usual blue polka dot pajamas every night, but Carol has been wanting to see Therese in the white with pink flowers baby doll pajamas for quite a while. The sleeves are gathered and a little puffed, capped with a deep pink silk ribbon. The same ribbon encircles the collar of the top and ends in the sweetest little bow that Carol is filled with delight just looking at it.

True, she has thought that the first time she’d see Therese in it would be a sexier moment, but she thinks the innocence of the pajama top and its matching shorts just might be perfect for _this_ moment.

She lays the pajamas out on the bed alongside a pair of Therese’s underwear, then makes her way back to the bathroom. She stops in the door, though, when Carol sees Therese in the tub, actually splashing in the water. She watches Therese smack her hand on the surface of the water, giggling as she sees it ripple and wave under her, before bringing her hand up and doing it again.

“ _Well_ ,” Carol says in amusement, causing Therese to startle and turn to her with wide eyes. “Am I going to have to make a run to the store tomorrow for some bath toys, Therese Belivet?”

“Maybe,” Therese challenges, without a hint of hesitation, and Carol raises an eyebrow.

“There’s a five and dime that sells soap in the shape of animals,” she says casually, moving so that she’s knelt to the side of the tub, next to Therese. “Perhaps we’ll start there.”

“Well, I didn’t mean…” She sounds awkward now, as if she’s been caught out in something that she’s meant to keep hidden. “You don’t have to.”

“Hush, you.” Carol rolls up her sleeves and dips her hands into the water, humming at the warmth that enfolds her skin. She reaches up to give Therese’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s only _soap_ , little one.”

She takes up a cloth and dips it into the water, wetting Therese’s back and smiling at the soft, contented noise the other woman makes. Carol’s knees aren’t going to be exactly happy with her in a few minutes, but it doesn’t matter. She concentrates on rubbing Therese’s back gently, on wetting every inch of her skin and trying to soothe the monsters away with her touch.

It strikes her that other than when she was a baby, this may be the first time Therese has ever been bathed. Carol doesn’t see fit to mention it; the last thing she wants is for Therese to be reminded of her mother, or of the boarding school.

She kneads the water through Therese’s hair with the aid of the toothbrush cup; she’s dumped the brushes unceremoniously into the sink, which elicits another giggle from Therese, and a grin from Carol. She knows Therese loves it when Carol lets go of her incessant need to have everything in its place, all clothes folded and put away, every cup washed and in the cabinet. Her life had felt so out of order for so long that now Carol craves neatness to the point of being obsessive, but every now and then, she can let things slide.

Every now and then. For Therese.

She runs her fingers through Therese’s soaked locks and gives her scalp an idle scratch. “You’ve been so stressed, my little girl,” Carol says. “That’s why you haven’t been sleeping, I’ll wager. Life has changed for us so much, hasn’t it?”

“It’s just… different,” Therese admits. “I used to live on my own, and now I’m here… Not that I don’t want to be!” she adds hastily, and Carol leans forward to kiss her cheek.

She understands. She definitely understands.

“And now I’m working at the Times…”

“Is it too much for you, darling?”

Therese shrugs, as Carol begins to work a bit of the Lustre-Crème into her hair.

“It’s not too much. I enjoy it; it’s what I want to do, if I could only convince some of the others that I’m _capable_.”

“You will,” Carol assures firmly, believing it more strongly than she thinks Therese ever will. “You are more than capable, Therese, and you will defy anyone who says otherwise.”

A dimple appears in Therese’s left cheek, and she tilts up to brush a kiss against Carol’s. It’s chaste, sweet, almost-girlish, and a warmth settles in Carol’s heart that she’s still not quite used to.

“And I guess…” Therese plays in the water, splashing again, only a bit lighter this time. She’s not looking at Carol, and her girlfriend nudges her gently, still scrubbing her hair gently.

“And?”

“I suppose I thought we would be seeing each other more.”

Carol sighs. “I have been neglecting you, haven’t I, little one?”

“No! It’s not that, I just miss you all the time, and I know I shouldn’t, because you’re busy with the furniture store and you can’t… _babysit_ me.”

Therese huffs, looking cross, and Carol shakes her head.

“Let’s not have any silly tantrums, now,” she warns, and takes up the cup to begin rinsing Therese’s hair.

“I have never once thought of spending time with you as ‘babysitting,’ Therese. Rather I find spending time with you to be the dearest, most precious happiness in my life, second only to Rindy.”

She has no qualms about bringing up her daughter to Therese; if anyone understands how much the little girl means to Carol, it’s the woman with the stunning green eyes who simply nods at her.

“But we haven’t been together as much as I would like, no,” Carol says regretfully. “And I daresay that’s because I’ve been at the furniture store too much.” She’s pulled long hours at the store, simply because it’s only just opened and Carol and her boss are still feeling their way around what’s required and who exactly is the clientele to whom they should be catering.

Still, Carol doesn’t necessarily _need_ the money. Harge has… provided well for her, which in some ways makes Carol bitterly angry, while simultaneously being grateful. For all of his faults, Harge isn’t completely terrible. He’s allowing her to see Rindy every other weekend, which isn’t enough by a long shot, but it’s something that he technically doesn’t even have to offer. Nor does he have to offer a rather substantial check every month; Carol really ought to stop seeing it as an allowance, because it’s that check that will permit her to do what she suggests next.

“I’m going to limit my hours at the store,” she says. “At least for a little while, until we can right this ship that has gone rather topsy-turvy, hasn’t it, my sweet girl?”

She finishes rinsing Therese’s hair and takes up the cloth again, beginning to bathe her in earnest. Carol finds for Therese the gentleness she uses when bathing Rindy, moving over her girlfriend’s body in light, tender strokes such that Therese almost becomes limp with relaxation in her hands.

Carol smiles. “And this way I can be here for you more, and perhaps we can take some of the stress off of you, what do you think?”

“I don’t want you to have to change your schedule for me, Carol.”

“Oh, you’ll be changing your schedule as well,” Carol says drily, tapping Therese’s nose, laughing a little at the smudge of soap. “I think perhaps a curfew is in order, to help you get the sleep you need.”

“Curfew?” Therese scrunches up her face, both in what seems to be confusion and distaste. “I don’t need a curfew, Carol.”

“Not just for you, little one, but for me as well. Think, if we don’t stay out until all hours gallivanting with Abby or Dannie, if we’re actually home at a decent hour and in bed ready to sleep by ten, how rested we’ll be the next morning. I could use a bit better sleep myself.”

“Only because I keep waking you,” Therese says sullenly.

“No, none of that.” Carol washes Therese’s chest, then hands the cloth to the girl and motions her chin so that Therese knows to wash herself between her legs.

(Carol doesn’t exactly trust herself or Therese to make this into something they don’t need right now, if her hands wander lower.)

“We both have been stressed and haven’t been taking good care of ourselves or each other. I think this will help.”

“Well,” Therese says doubtfully, handing Carol the cloth once she’s washed up. “I suppose it’s worth a try.”

“That’s settled then. Goodness, this water has gotten cold! Why, my little girl is shivering as if she’s out in the snow,” Carol jokes, unstopping the tub and rising to her feet to pick up one of the towels.

“Out you go, dearest. Let’s get you warm.”

She wraps Therese into the towel and dries her off quickly, depositing the wet washcloth and towel into the hamper before leading Therese into the bedroom.

She sees Therese eye the pajamas, then glance back at her. “I can just wear the others,” she says, and Carol shakes her head.

“Those need laundered, Therese, and these are just fine. You’re not going to tell me after all this time that you don’t like them, are you?”

“No, it’s not that,” Therese says. “I’m just not used to flowers and ribbons. Or bows.”

Carol laughs and nudges Therese towards the bed, taking up the baby doll top and slipping it over her head. “Well, get used to it,” she teases, then kneels down to pull the shorts up over Therese’s hips.

“Well, look at you!” she says, standing up again and taking a step back to survey Therese. “Oh, don’t you just look like a darling little girl!”

It’s true that the outfit gives Therese a young-ish appearance, an innocence that makes Carol’s gaze soften as her eyes take her in.

No, she thinks, perhaps this outfit isn’t meant for sexier times. Even when Therese casts her eyes down shyly.

“You think I look pretty?”

“Therese Belivet, I always think you look pretty. This just makes you absolutely _adorable_.”

That makes Therese’s cheeks flush pink, and Carol can’t help but pull her into her arms, breathing in the soft warmth of her love, the clean smell of her skin. She moves away after a few moments to hold Therese at arm’s length, and sees that in spite, or because of, her relaxation, Therese seems to be only just barely keeping her eyes open.

“Come along, little one,” Carol says tenderly. “How about a glass of warm milk before bed, would you like that?”

“Yes,” Therese says, a little drowsily. “Yes, I think I would.”

She keeps Therese in the kitchen with her as Carol pulls out a pot and the milk; she holds an arm around Therese’s waist as she warms the milk on the stove, because Carol’s not sure she can trust Therese not to fall asleep if she sends the girl to wait for her in the living room. But Therese doesn’t seem to want to be away from her, anyway; she clings to Carol’s robe and holds fast, and Carol kisses her temple lightly.

“Poor baby,” she says sympathetically. “I shouldn’t ever leave you, should I?”

Therese rubs her cheek against Carol’s shoulder. “Just come home to me, that’s all.”

“Always,” Carol promises, pouring the milk into a mug. “You needn’t worry about that, Therese.”

She guides Therese into the living room, seating herself on the couch and resting the mug on a side table before reaching up and gesturing to Therese.

“On your lap?” Therese says, a little dubiously.

“Well of course, silly, where else do little girls sit?”

Carol’s voice is slightly cautious; she _knows_ Therese isn’t a little girl, she _knows_ that sometimes their age difference is a tender point with both of them. But she also knows that Therese is dead-tired, and Carol can tell by the way Therese hesitates with a strange look in her eyes that a battle is going on inside her head: she wants this, and she’s afraid of why she wants it.

In the end, Therese sits, a little awkwardly; Carol decides that no, having Therese perched on her knees like a strange little bird isn’t going to do, at all. So she shifts so that she’s leaned fully against the arm and back of one end of the couch, and with arms that are suddenly used to lifting furniture she pulls Therese onto her lap so that Therese is forced to stretch out her legs on the couch.

“Ah, _there_ we are,” Carol says triumphantly, and gives Therese a squeeze. “Is that comfy?”

“Yes,” Therese says, sounding surprised.

Carol hands Therese the mug of warm milk and tucks her girlfriend’s head against her shoulder.

“Drink up, my darling, then we’ll sleep.”

Somewhere between the third and fourth sip, Carol finds herself rocking Therese back and forth slowly in her arms. They’re in an awkward position and it’s certainly not like when she would rock Rindy, sat in the rocking chair in the little pink nursery.

That felt like a lifetime ago, Carol thinks, and it makes her wonder if she’s, in fact, getting old.

But rocking Therese is somewhat better than rocking Rindy, in its own way, because though both of her girls need her, Carol knows Therese doesn’t need _this_. Carol loves Therese’s independence, loves knowing that the woman who has chosen her isn’t going to fall apart, though she may become stressed and perhaps more than a little whiny every now and then. But Therese chooses this, chooses to let Carol take care of her because perhaps, in a way, she understands that Carol taking care of Therese means she is soothing her own wounded soul.

Going against your own grain for so long doesn’t leave you without scars, after all.

And Carol thinks, though Therese isn’t a child, perhaps, in a way, she’s still a little girl waiting for her comforter to arrive.

And so she rocks Therese in her arms, feeling the heaviness of Therese in her lap, rubbing Therese’s arm with her hand and brushing light kisses to her cheeks and forehead. The mug of milk is half-finished when Therese’s eyelids droop, and Carol pats her gently.

“Bed, my little one,” she says, chuckling a little when Therese grumbles. “Come now, you’ll be far more comfortable there and so will I.”

“Oh, all right,” Therese pouts, and shifts off Carol’s lap, holding out her hand.

Carol takes it and leads Therese into the bedroom, pulling back the covers on the bed and waiting until Therese settles in before tucking them around her.

“Snug as a bug in a rug!” she says gaily, stooping down to kiss Therese on the nose, and she smiles when Therese giggles sleepily.

Carol climbs into the bed next to her and reaches to pull Therese close.

“Good night, my little angel.”

“’night, Carol.”

It’s probably close to two a.m. when Carol is jolted awake by the first rustlings of a nightmare. Next to her, Therese is shifting in the bed, a little wet with sweat, soft whimpers of distress coming forth from her lips. Carol feels a pang of regret that her normal ritual on these nights is to shake Therese awake. To ask if she’s all right, and then, when she hears “Yes,” she simply turns back over to the rest of her fitful sleep.

But not tonight, she says to herself, thinking of a little girl alone in a boarding school.

Tonight she reaches out and pulls Therese to her again, brushing Therese’s hair back from her face.

“Hush, hush,” she soothes, starting to rock Therese in her arms as she did hours earlier. “My little girl, you’re all right. Wake up for me, angel.”

And Therese does, with a start, nearly pushing Carol away in her fright. But Carol holds fast, and even though the room is dark, she feels Therese relax into her with recognition.

“Carol?”

“I’m right here,” she assures. “Oh, little one, you’re all right. I’m here, and you’re safe. I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”

She lays back against the pillows with Therese on her chest; Therese nuzzles into her.

It’s quiet for a while, such a long minute that Carol thinks Therese has gone back to sleep.

“I thought no one would ever come.”

Carol cups the back of her head, holding Therese to her.

_Where are your monsters? Hand me my sword, I will vanquish them for you. For only you, forever._

“Sleep, darling. I’m here.”

The next morning, Carol finds Therese in the kitchen, still in her pajamas and making breakfast. Her eyes are bright and clear as she tugs Carol to her for a lingering kiss. There’s a spring in her step that Carol hasn’t seen in Therese in a while, when she gets dressed and heads off to take pictures in Times Square (“Only for an hour! I promise!”) with the assurance of a woman who knows she’s _more_ than just _capable_.

Carol watches out the window as Therese stands on the sidewalk below waiting for a cab; almost as if she senses it, Therese glances up and catches sight of Carol. She breaks into a wide smile and blows Carol a kiss, and Carol laughs as she pretends to catch it and slip it into her robe pocket, before sending off a kiss of her own.

She finishes her coffee and gets dressed, making her way outside and hailing her own cab with all the happiness of a woman in love.

Carol Aird has an appointment with the five and dime downtown, the one that sells soap shaped like animals.


End file.
